Unbreakable
by Audriana.L.E
Summary: She's been lifted up as a hero long enough, surrounded by exaggerated stories and fabricated tales. She's kept quiet this whole time. But now, it's time for her to take a stand. For Anastasia to tell her story.  Forgotten life prequel
1. Chapter 1

**Unbreakable**

Seeing as I haven't finished a story yet, and I'm bad at being constant with them, I really SHOULDN'T be starting a new one. But I was so inspired, that I had to. And if there is EVER a time where it's been more than a month and I haven't updated ANY of my stories, please please please please PLEASE send my a private message and remind me. I like writing, but sometimes I get distracted. :) I've been working on and developing my specific voice when I write, but don't be alarmed if it happens to change somewhere in the story-line, but hopefully you'll like it.

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><p>They all speak of me as a hero. So I stand and wait patiently as the fawn over me, complimenting my fighting style, obsessing over every move I make. I can't go anywhere without knowing someone is talking about me. Boasting about my accomplishments, while whispering my flaws behind closed doors, in the safety of their own homes. I wish I could tell them. Speak out and tell them what I thought-what I thought about their petty comments about my hair or my clothes and their exaggerated tales they tell. I wish I could tell them to shut up. I wish I could make them feel what I felt, what I still feel. They think what I went through changed their lives forever. And it has. But it's scarred mine. I've seen things I never wanted to see. I've done things I never wanted to do.<p>

I often find myself thinking of what would have happened if I had never been out that night, the night it changed it all. My whole life would be completely different. I would probably be on my foster parents couch somewhere, drinking a Pepsi and counting the days until the weekend, like every other normal kid out there. But I know it's not possible, never possible for me to live a normal life and not be haunted by my experiences.

I often find myself thinking of what would have happened if I had never been out that night, the night it changed it all. Because I remember it like it was yesterday.

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><p>I heard the screen door whine as it shut behind me. As soon as I stepped out, I could sense the change. The change in the wind, the air, the pressure. My dog pulled eagerly at the leash, she too sensing the change in barometric pressure. Gusts of wind attempted to bend trees and bushes over backwards, and blew the ominous clouds ever closer towards me. It was twilight, and down the street in order, the streetlight flickered to life. One near the end was feebly trying to stay on, flickering in and out of life, uttering it's death sound-the irritating buzzing and clicking noise. The sky above me was an array of colors; purples, pinks, dark grays, navy blues-all jumbled into an enticing mess. The once stale, still standing air was on the move, pushing at my back, beckoning me forward.<p>

It was magical.

With each step I took I was aware of my surroundings. The crunch of the few leaves on the ground, the wind blasting strands of my hair in all directions. Each step was sacred. Something new to be cherished and intrigued by. It was like being introduced to a whole new world.

M dog, Maddy, was straining at her leash, urging me to follow her down our routine walk. Usually it was a rut that I detested going down, but tonight, something was different.

I stepped into a steady pace beside her. Her usual nose-to-the-ground walking technique had oddly vanished today, and instead she held her head high, as if expecting something. We walked for a few moments, and I watched in awe the changes going on around me. Clouds that had been slightly in the distance were growing closer and closer. With each step I took, the uneasy feeling in my stomach grew larger and larger.

I should have turned back there.

But I didn't. I kept strolling along, ignoring my intuition, ignoring my conscience, ignoring one of most primitive part of me.

I was halfway around the lake when I began to hear it. It was the wind whistling across the lake. Dark wavs began to lap at the little banks, and the wild life was huddled quietly against the undergrowth. As I walked farther, the whistling became louder, almost like a siren. By now, the wind was in a frenzy, trees shuddered dangerously above me, the dark clouds seemed to swirl and converse just over my head, and a lone paper bag was dragged down the sidewalk.

They say animals can sense when things are about to go wrong. They can feel it in their bones, buzzing through their system like lightening-a feeling so powerful, that they listen. Humans have grown since their time as animals, and with that time, that sense has become less powerful, less influential. Because that would have been my last time to turn back. Like an idiot, I kept going.

Five minutes passed, and the wailing wind was unbearable. The uneasy feeling in my stomach had gone away, and thinking that that was a good sign, I kept walking. I had one goal in mind, and that was to finish my walk.

I only stopped when the sky caught fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Unbreakable**

The only things in the world were the things that I could hear; my scream, barking, and the high-pitched siren that resonated a low-pitched boom as it hit in front of me. Time stood still and sped up at the same time. I could feel my blood coursing through my veins carrying the adrenaline that was keeping me from fainting. Little by little, I could feel the physical world ebb away until I was nothing.

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><p>That's where they found me. Facedown in the middle of the sidewalk, my dog running loose around me, barking up a storm. I was hysterical by the time I came around, they said, that I was raving about some flaming, electric chariot and a ten foot tall man. For days I sat in my room. My foster parents didn't dare to enter, saying that I needed some space since my episode. I knew the truth. They were afraid of me. No one wants to watch a child have delusions.<p>

I was eleven at the time.

Weird things had happened before to me, but none as drastic as this.

I was taken away by my father at the age of eight. Actually, it was more like he was taken away from me. After a series of events, my father was deemed an arsonist and was sent to jail. While out in the courtyard during a storm, he was struck by lightening. Everything else at the prison was left untouched.

That ranked number one before my dog-walking incident. My father was a family man, a good man who would never do any one harm. He had that good natured charm about him. Everyone who met him immediately liked him. But of course, no one showed up to his funeral. No one wants to go to a criminals wake. It was just me, alone by his side until the social worker took me away.

My first year with foster parents I tried to act nice. I tried to act like a good girl and do what they wanted. But they weren't my dad. They tried as hard as they could, but no one could replace the hole in my heart.

Accidentally setting their house on fire was the second incident. I was nine.

A few sets of foster parents later, I was sent to a new town, and an inner city school. On my first day, two highschoolers got into a fight. Five minutes later, they went on their way, no grudges held between them, and myself to hold the blame. The students in the courtyard all stared at me as I also stood in amazement. I never tried to be in any drama, and I had solved their problem in a blink of an eye.

That was number three. I was ten.

Every school I attended after that, I tried to solve everyones problems. But at whatever home I was at, I ignored my own and everyone there until I was switched to another family.

Now I was eleven, and there was this. I was certain I would be moving homes by the end of the day, and so I packed my things, and sat waiting in my room.

The social workers never came. Eventually, I got hungry, and quietly tiptoed down the steps. My "mom" and "dad" were sitting quietly at the table, their food untouched.

They had set a third plate for me.

I slid into my seat, thinking that this would be the place where they would break the news to me. But like the social workers, it never came. Instead, they tried even harder to be better parents to me. Eventually I grew fond of them, and learned to let them into my life. Finally, all problem were solved. Or so I thought.

_A Year Later_

"Anastasia!" I heard Caren call up to my bedroom. "You're going to be late for your last day of school!" I scampered down my steps, antsy for the day to go by. Nine hours from now I would be free, and summer would be mine at last. _Freedom._

"Do you have your-"

"Yes, yes," I replied hastily, grabbing my bag and opening the door. Caren likes to worry. It makes her feel like she's in charge, so I let her.

"Alright, hop up in the car," she said, taking her keys off of the hook by the door. Too late. I was already inside the mini cooper. Caren stepped in next to me, pushed the keys in, hit the button, and we were off. I didn't think to look back on our little town house. If I had, I would have seen my dog propped up on the screen door, wagging it's tail at me, and George in the kitchen cleaning the table off from breakfast. If I had, I would have seen the eagle on top of my house, watching our car drive away.


End file.
